Vhaejek Sivlid

[TurtlePrada]

Spoiler: Song

Current Status:
+ACTIVE+
Vhaejek Sivlid
(vh-aye-jek)

^muh lord, is beautiful. thank you sooooooooooooo much, solus^
KEY INFORMATION
​

Age: Middle of Dajakal. Late 30s, early 40s.​

Gender: Female, though she is easily mistaken for male.
Race: A Nakat, one of the Nakam.
Social Status: A member of the working class.
Sexuality: Pansexual, as per typical Nakat attitude. Bitter about romance.
Height: Average height for a female Nakat. 5’2.
Weight: A bit pudgy. She lost a good deal of weight after that stint on the open ocean, though she is probably still a bit wider 'round the waist than some Nakam.
Date of Birth: She’s not entirely sure; Verbali's calendars do not match up with the North's.
Homeland: The bustling trade-port of Verbali.
Current Home: Her tailory.

PHYSIOLOGY
​

Build: What might have once been taut has gone a bit to paunch; a bit rounder around the waist than some other female Nakam. Hips only a bit wider than her shoulders, making her shape not entirely feminine. Poor posture. Long limbed.​

Fur: Her fur is longer in length, with a color-point pattern; Her face, mouth, groin, lower stomach, and the ends of her appendages are a dark brown. The remainder of her body is a lighter shade of brown. The rare hair on her tail has begun to gray; she tries to pull them out as soon as they are seen.
Eyes: Brown, not unlike the color of rust. Deep-set and fairly small.
Identifying: She doesn't really stand out. Or, atleast, she didn't in Verbali; she's a Nakat. That can make her easy to spot in a land filled with the Furless.
Appearance: A short, rigid Nakat with a long, straight nose, a square, angular face, and short ears. She holds herself with authority, though it is obvious that she is still struggling to assimilate w/ the Eastern culture.

​

Weaponry: Whatever’s around; she'd probably improvise with a potted plant or something.
Prized Possessions:
+A waterlogged, leather-bound journal with missing pages. What's left is cracked, smeared with ink, torn, folded, and mostly illegible.
+A loose string bracelet with a few silver medallions and lapis beads hanging from it.
+Her wits.
Hygiene: Passable. Maybe. She's not crazy about cleaning herself, but if she doesn't bathe often enough, her fur clumps and mats!
Voice:

Spoiler

QUALITIES AND FLAWS
​

Strengths: If there is one thing this 'kat learned from her father, it's this; always speak your mind. She's kept that ideal close to heart and is always the one to go to for a good, honest opinion, even if you do not want to hear it. She's not one to sit around and listen to something she doesn't appreciate; if you insult her, she'll be quick to fire back with equal vigor. She has a good memory; years of working around the streets of Verbali have kept her ears prime for local gossip. Working hard on the docks has also done good for her strength. She might not be the strongest woman in Altera, but she can unload a ship just as well as any other sailor. She's also capable of cunning, though it's rare she's the patience to show it. A sharp, critical mind allows her to work quickly through difficult situations, even if the choices she makes are wrong 'unappreciated'. Her realist attitude has managed to get her out of some bad situations.​

Fears:
+The ocean: After seeing the waterlogged bodies of her people in a sea of corpses, this 'kat has decided to avoid the open ocean for good.

Weaknesses:
One of the first things you'll probably notice about her is how prickly she is. She's quick to take offense, and once you've gotten her going it's difficult for her to stop. She's also quick to shut down others. She's a tendency to 'shut down' when things are going poorly. Other people's ideas usually don't go well with her; she's had so many failed plans thrusted upon her in the past that she's used to taking the reigns herself. She likes to think that she can think for herself. Can act a bit cold around newcomers. She can be a bit selfish since she seems to think that the world owes her a debt. She has what seems to be an incessant need to bicker. It's hard for this Nakat not to hold a grudge. Stubborn. Struggles with Tra'de- or as these Northerners call it, Common. She can hold a conversation for the most part, but she'll usually just nod and agree if she doesn't understand- can't look stupid.
Intelligence: While she’s quick to catch on, she’s yet to apply herself to learning much. She can read social cues and facial expressions well but has a rudimentary education besides. Unless the topic is on trade, docking procedure, or the local gossip, she’s not like to be well versed.
Languages: Fluent in Verba and its written counterpart, Ludkava. Picking up a lot of Tra'de recently, though she still struggles.
Profession: Tailor, seamstress.

ETHICS AND MOTIVATIONS
​

Personality: Seemingly rude and brash, this Nakat does not come without rare moments of seemingly good nature. Quick to point out the flaws in others but less likely to admit to her own. She tries to seem like others don't affect her, but her prickly disposition shows how easily she is flustered. Despite her abrasiveness, she truly does mean well and does what she thinks is best, even if her logic can be flawed. She's determined not to make the same mistakes she's made before but isn't willing to put in too much effort. She's expecting things to change without really trying and just wants to have a good time and to try and get back to the way things were. She just wants things to work out well for her and her people, and even though she might not show it, she'd really like the best for everyone. If she feels she's wrong, she will apologize. ​

Religion or Cults: She acknowledges the ancestral beliefs of the Nakam, though she's taken to calling herself a worshipper of Silas to sate the Furless.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral, for the most part.

TRIVIA​

Favorites​

Place: The streets of Verbali during Sagevde. Her bed.
Pastime: Sleeping. Eating.
Food: A variety of vibrant fruits become available during Verbali’s summer trading; her favorite was the orange.
Drink: An ounce or two of whatever liquor she can get her hands on.
Colour: Bright oranges and tawny golds.
Animal: All animals are respected, though she enjoys watching the seabirds near the docks.
Least Favorites
Place: The open ocean.
Pastime: Work.
Food: She’ll generally eat just about anything, although grains upset her digestion.
Drink: Water.
Colour: Green.
Animal: All animals are respected.

^thankusolusurocksoooomuchalso^
​

 

[TurtlePrada]

Spoiler: Journey to Kavdek (By Mich)

As Vhaejek works upon the hard labour in the docks, life seems to be just as normal as it usually is- Save for just a touch of misfortune. She somehow finds herself below-decks in a boat, unable to distinguish from its normal rocking and the pull of the wind in sails until it shudders as the vessel leaves the Harbour of Verbali and sails into the open sea. Very interested in getting off- As her shift is nearly over and sunset is nearly upon Kavdek- she learns that this ship is headed towards the East, to the Northern Kingdoms. Almost ready to get off her wayward journey and head back, as Kavdek is still visible and framed by quite a beautiful evening sky- Clouds begin to gather and whitecaps begin to form on the waves, all in the span of a few moments. The ship rocks, it heaves! The ocean its self seems to be rejecting the craft right out of the water, causing a turmoil vicious enough to rouse even the sleepiest sailor. A bright light shines through the portholes of the vessel like a gross intruder- Vhaejek is daring enough to brave the slicing wind and rocking deck of the boat, where light shines into her eyes and illuminates the sails. All eyes are turned West, Back to the source of the light- Back to their home of Kavdek, Back to a sudden and unnatural bright beam piercing the sky. Such a thing certainly wasn't there when they left... It was as if the sun had shrunk into a pillar and touched down too the island, outshining both moon and stars in the night sky.
For a moment, the sight was almost as pretty to behold as the sunset.

And then everything went to hell.

Vhaejek would awaken, bruised and groggy but somehow still in one piece. She somehow managed to end up without any serious injuries and seems to be sitting on some piece of wood, but its hard to tell through the thick fog layered over everything. Bodies of other Nakam float in nearby water.. Some she recognizes from the ship she was on, or from Verbali- but they don't appear to be as alert and looking around as Vhaejek is. They don't even appear to be breathing. Another carcass of a boat drifts past... and then the roof of someones home... and then a copse of uprooted trees...
She doesn't know how she survived, but on the misty horizon it seems she has drifted closer to where Kavdek was.
The lands don't look quite whole. Indeed, it seems some sort of beast had let its wrath loose over what was once the Grand City of Verbali. Cragged, broken wasteland more underwater then above slowly fades in and out of view. If Vhaejek had known her landmarks, she would have realized she is drifting towards where the Southern Mountains once were. On an.. unnatural... current.

Peering through the mist, it becomes quickly obvious there is nowhere else to go but this makeshift 'raft' she ended up stranded upon. In fact, it looks like the hull of the ship she had been stockpiling. Broken from its being.
The fog grows thicker. Despite her best attempts to stay awake, nothing could stop this allure of unnatural sleep foisted upon the Nakat...

She may remembers awakening from time to time, always in this haze. Seeing shadows and shapes in the mist. Seeing more of what was once the Nakam population of Kavdek... floating in the waters, forever circling Southwards- For the local current no longer seems to obey the word of the moon. She crys out, but the only response is always her own empty voice. Days and nights blend, obscured by that damned fog. As Vhaejek grows closer and closer to starvation (Only starvation- For the water about her is mysteriously fresh despite being an ocean and seeing that she is one of the only survivors, she must have been one of the few to stomach the corpse-ridden drink) - she would began to see different types of ships enter the wreckage. Some food may be pilfered, but survival looks dim... Especially given that these ships look to be Trade Ships of other continents. Occasionally their crew, a fallen Human or Caparii sailor, adds to the eerie watery graveyard. As if they came to see what happened. As if they never made it out...

In her last moments, there is a saving grace. A single vessel somehow makes it through, manned by Furless and few Nakam- splitting through the unending mist like a beacon of hope.

​

Spoiler: Backstory

Vhaejek positioned herself between the melon vendors in the shade house, the honeydew and the cantaloupes, thinking quietly about the other lost mothers of the world. She wore her nightrobe, but she doesn't remember deciding to wear it out of her room. She remembers being in the kitchen, seeing the empty shelves, and knowing that Zadeek wouldn't go to the market and that even if he did, he wouldn't remember things like fruits. And suddenly all she wanted was one, soft, ripe melon. She was going to eat it on the porch. It was Summer in Verbali, so it was still warm through the early afternoon, warm enough to sit on the steps in the back the way her Fehrdem used to, not wanting to tire herself but still wanting to involve herself in the play. She was going to sit there and eat the melon, a half at a time, with her hands, watching the travelers go by. She'd throw the seeds into the alley with the weeds and let them turn to mulch.
It was going to be so good.

It was a pity you didn't eat more fruit when you're young, she thought. There's something special about it, sugar and water, refreshing in a way nothing else is. It was these times, times when she's too exhausted to eat anything else,w hen real food- fats and grains and stews- would feel too heavy in her mouth, in her body. Cherries, pears, oranges in the right season, blueberries, maybe even a southern banana, and melons. Melons, though, you had to work for. You cut them into halves, then strips, separate the flesh from the rind and then you eat it, full without being filled, anchored without being weighed down. She picked one off the table (her fehrdem had taught you how to pick a good one- you smelled the navel) and slid the vendor a wooden bracelet in exchange.

The week and the week before, she'd been in bed each day, knees curled up to her chest, thinking about way things were until she fell asleep or the day faded and Zadeek came home and climbed in beside her, tucking his body into her curve and, if she'd gotten the energy to read the one book they owned, asking "What are we reading?" One day, she'd seen one of the merchants' wives crossing the street, a number of k'ubs trailing her. Merchant couples always had as many as they could. The fathers in the families always auditioned their children's' suitors. She tried to imagine Zadeek doing the same, a list of questions in his hands. She asked, "What would you ask to reveal the perfect match for your child?" but he hadn't wanted to joke with her. He looked at her as if she was throwing fire at his feet, so she didn't say anything else.

She was halfway home, then, and cut through the alley. She'd the melon in her bag. They probably weren't waiting for me, she thought. No, they heard the sounds of me shuffling and, in that split moment, decided "this is the one." She saw the girl first. The girl had her hands in her pockets, her fur a brazen orange. She couldn't have been older than thirteen, just out of Dakichal, maybe. The boy followed her- older, maybe seventeen or eighteen, dark. He was unremarkable and would have been even if he had been holding the club, but he wasn't- the girl had it. She pointed at Vhaejek. Vhaejek held out her satchel. The boy took it.

"We should go," he muttered to the girl. The girl nodded. The girl looked up at Vhaejek like she was out of her mind, a woman old enough to be her fehdrem out on a Summer night in her bedclothes, like the woman she was robbing wasn't calling out for help. The girl muttered a quiet "sorry" and Vhaejek saw them off, blinking.

When it had happened, again, at the start of the season, weeks ago, she hadn't known. She never knew. The pain had folded her in half and she'd spent the day aching and tired. She'd got up. She bled. She tried to clean herself up. She passed clots. All bone and heartbeat, she'd imagine later. Something full of intentions. Something they'd've named, carried, given belts with buckles and something they'd have taken to the docks, something to shelter from rainstorms, to give a few coins to when they went off alone. Something to cook for and that, maybe, wouldn't eat carrots like her mother or mushrooms like her father. Something to read and sing and tell to, scold even when it broke their hearts, something to hug too tightly and cry and laugh with. Something named after her mother or mother's mother. Something to call "chal" and "k'ub." If she'd known, she would've been better. If she'd known, she'd've done things differently- slept more, ate better, less late nights and more mornings looking down and holding up her belly and willing its growth, its rounding out. She hadn't been sure what to do with it, the blood. She cleaned up. She drew a bath.

Zadeek came home from the docks early the day they robbed her. She hadn't stopped by to see him and that made him nervous. She was still in bed when he came to her. Her feet were crossed at hte ankle, her back propped against the wall. He opened the door to their room- they'd never owned a home, probably wouldn't- and sat down with her, taking her feet onto his lap.

He said, "Harash, V." She hated that nickname. He knit his brow.

She said "A pair of k'ubs took my coinpurse in the alley near Broad Street."

"What?"

"They had a club, but, well- it's fine, really- I don't think they'd've used it." She glanced down, then, her lips pulled into a thin, terse line.

Zadeek tightened his palms around her legs, at the ankles. "Oh, Vhae." He was quiet then, looking at her with the shame of a man who feels he's failed in the most profound way. He bent over, covering his face, and so she pulled her feet away and stood so she could slip into his lap and take his head on hers and receive him in the full of his grief.

He said he was sorry. She said it was fine.

They found her satchel a few days later on a gravel beach. The girl's name was J'avi. She and her boyfriend had been on a spree, starting on Broad Street, and moving East through Verbali, mostly taking women's purses or stealing food while the vendors went to the bathroom. They abandoned the purses when they were empty. A guard had caught the boy. The guard guessed the girl had left the boy for one of the inns, a brothel, maybe, or one of the gambling houses. Verbali was huge. They wouldn't find her. One vendor had said he'd seen her with Vhae's bag over her shoulder at the betting booths. The girl would stop every so often and place another bet.

None of them would pay out. She kept on doing it.

Vhae took her purse and thanked him for his work, but she'd rather'd they'd've found the girl. She imagines it, then, meeting her; she recognizes the girl instantly and the girl recognizes her, too. She embraces the girl, then tells her, you are one of my daughters. She folds her into her life. She worries about her safety, what she eats, about finding her a good husband. She auditions her future satob. She asks all the right questions. She wouldn't be able to protect her from all that would happen in the world, no, but she could try.

That burden was much easier to shoulder than the real one. She was not hers. She never would be.

"..'So, what do you want to do with your life?' "
"..and just like that, they were gone. She hadn't the heart to refuse him."
​

"..he's afraid to die. She tells him not to worry about it."
"..it's soon, he'd said, so they rush out the door, vendors and onlookers lining the streets. Fireworks light up the sky."
​

"..'we'll be fine. We're always fine.' "
".. no matter what happens, there'll be someone new to meet."
​

"The money runs out in mid-Stormwind."
"..ashes scatter in the wind. Someone new she never met."

​

 

[Michcat]

'approved' xD

 

[Solus]

Sorry, I couldn't ignore the horrible cropping. xD
Yay~

 

[NIAH]

Did Aracena earn a relation spot today?

 

[TurtlePrada]

no.

ok fine i guess she deserves it. Also, holy balls, this is supa outdated.

 

[NIAH]

*Digs this up*

Hello Turtle.

 

[TurtlePrada]

ugh the updating that must be done damn it niek this thing is so old

 

[Elz]

did i make a chibi for this baby cat

 

[TurtlePrada]

did i make a chibi for this baby cat

dry-uterus-having-middle-aged-spinster cat* yes u did :^) i add

 

[Michcat]

dry-uterus-having-middle-aged-spinster cat* yes u did :^) i add

Thats my line D:<